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Congrats.

Congrats.

At precisely 7:55, I begin to close up the gallery. For the past eight hours, I have had one customer (an elderly woman asking to use our washroom) and one phone call (wrong number). This has got to be the least successful art gallery in Canada. But why do I even...
The Way He Says Her Name

The Way He Says Her Name

It’s cold, but the wind has died down, so I decide to walk. I stick to the salty sidewalks and avoid ice patches. I want to reach out to my brother, Wes, so I take my phone out and send him a quick text: I did it. I went out, met strangers, and I survived! He...
The Pub

The Pub

The city bus in downtown Niagara Falls is quiet. Tourists take the casino buses. It’s just me, some teenagers and an elderly woman with her shopping basket on wheels. My nerves are in my throat; I swallow them, but it doesn’t work. The tension slides down...
After the Panic

After the Panic

“Robena!” I hear the voice, but I keep going. I trudge up Clifton Hill, searching for a full breath and some sanity. “Robena! Stop!” And then I’m drenched. Apparently, someone has seen fit to douse me with what I pray is water....
Robena Meets Serge

Robena Meets Serge

* Be sure to listen to the audio version as there is a cool story behind this novel. ~ D The art gallery where I work is a small store on a tiny street in downtown Niagara Falls. The walls are the colour of bone and peppered with black and white photographs of people...